


Royal pain

by Pickl3lily



Series: Killerwave 2016 [4]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Badass Caitlin, Bandit Tony, F/M, Half-sister Lisa, Iris isn't a total mary-sue, KillerWave Week 2016, Nor is she the bad guy, Princess Iris, Royal Mick, Snart Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-13 00:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7130423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pickl3lily/pseuds/Pickl3lily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>KillerWave Week 2016, Day four - Royal AU!</p><p>Everyone seems to want Mick to get married, but he just wants to hunt and fight and light his secret fires. Enter a certain young woman who is independent, kind of bitchy and completely disbelieving that Mick could be a king. </p><p>Bit of a twist, I like to think. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Royal pain

“I don’t need a wife.” It’s practically Mick’s mantra at this point; everyone in the court, all of his advisors, even his favourite knight Lenny and their shared half-sister Lisa was on his case. Hence why he was spending most of his time now split between the next village’s tavern drinking ale and starting brawls with dumb, drunk men who had no way of knowing they were spilling royal blood, and hunting in the woods – that last could never really be kept secret though. Mick was too keen on his fires to roast the small game ‘before it went off’ and flames had a poor tendency to signal one’s presence.

Really though, after the accident that had left 10 year old prince Michael with severe burns to his arms and chest, nobody wanted him near the flames. Mick had spent the past 26 years forcing himself to act indifferent to the flames in public, using this time, his hunting time, to light small fires away from prying eyes and worrisome members of the court who still treated him like their precious crown prince who needed protection. He was 36 now, big and burly, the newly crowned king of this land, and he had never lost a single fight; this couldn’t even be blamed on his opponents being wary of causing him harm, when most of his battles were picked with unknowing fools, unlucky enough to be the victims of his pent-up frustration.

“Don’t want some woman pretending to love me. Don’t want one who won’t either. Stupid.” Mick allowed himself to grumble low, collecting the rabbits he’d shot flaming-arrows through, just to fine-tune his aim of course. Mick couldn’t do this at his castle – not the hunting, although that would be pretty difficult too, but _this_. Voicing his feelings and not having to use correct grammar. He would be happiest if he could just live in the woods, start fires and Lenny could be king – Lenny would like that, he’s bossy enough, and Lisa sure would love herself all the gold and jewels Lenny would no doubt spoil her with.

A scream, high and feminine pierced his ears and broke his reverie; he was off in a flash, hurtling towards the sound, sword ready and drawn before he broke the clearing. When he reached the source of the sound however, he was so shocked that he found himself freezing in place to blink owlishly at the scene before him.

A bandit, muscular and objectively good-looking with the name ‘Tony’ sewn haphazardly on his tunic was curled on the floor, hands flitting between his bleeding nose, his abdomen, his foot and his groin – all the while emitting girly little whimpers. Meanwhile a harried-looking woman, dressed in trousers and a cape sneered down at him, hand poised on the hilt of a sword on her waist, ready for any further action. “You truly did bring this on yourself. You were told ‘no’, I warned you to stay back, did I not?”

She was actually _lecturing_ her attacker? She was a special kind of crazy. Mick felt the corner of his mouth twitch up slightly before she heard the breath of laughter he had tried, but failed, to smother. When her eyes met his, the fierceness of her gaze make his breath hitch, just low enough to be undetectable – it wasn’t love, he didn’t believe in love at first sight, but there was certainly lust. This woman was tiny, travelling alone in the forest, known for its banditry, and yet here she was. Taking down men twice her size without breaking a sweat, and sticking around to lecture them.

He would blame it on the shock later when he found himself unable to stop the words “That’s hot” from passing his lips. The woman’s glare was replaced with a look of shock for the briefest of moments, when it was in turn replaced with a stony look, concealing any emotion this woman might be feeling.

“And what’s it to you if it is?” Her voice might have sounded arrogant to others, but Mick could hear the challenge behind the words, the defensiveness that he was all too familiar with – he had been saddled with the burden of having to be called ‘Michael’ every day and listen to problems that he didn’t give a damn about, all while fighting off advances of women who were all too willing to jump into his bed at the chance of becoming his queen, but jumping just as quickly out the moment they saw his scars – 36 and a virgin? Yeah, he knew defensive. “Maybe I’m royalty. Maybe I own these woods, and you’re insulting the king.” The words were playful, but not obviously so, with the gruff tones of his voice making him sound like he was perpetually gargling gravel and spirits.

The woman scoffed as she made her way closer, leaving the still whimpering man lying in his shame at the centre of the clearing. “Well, _your majesty_. Your tutor should be hanged, for she obviously lied about her capability to effectively teach the simple subject of grammar.” She brushed past him, smiling coyly over her shoulder, “but if you want to play royals, you may call me princess Caitlin.” She made to leave again and Mick found himself incapable of making a sound or move to stop her; this was the first woman to challenge him and interest him at the same time – regardless of her disbelief of his claim to the throne, he wanted to continue this conversation.

A nervous habit of his was to tug on the wrists of his hunting gloves, which was precisely what he aimed to do as he watched the woman, _Caitlin_ , sashay further away from him; so entranced was he that for the first time, Mick forgot where his sword was. Namely, he forgot that he was holding it and allowed it to drop blade-first into his boot. On the bright side – his ensuing scream was a lot manlier than Tony’s had been.

 

The problem with prolonging an interaction by accidentally stabbing yourself in the foot, aside from the bleeding and the pain, was that any hope of convincing Caitlin that he really was the king and not a commoner with delusions of grandeur, were undoubtedly dashed. “I’m afraid, _your highness_ , that you also need to hang the man who taught you to handle a sword – any semi-decent mentor would have explained that the blade hurts. What’s more, he should have told you that one traditionally keeps their sword in a sheath – not in your boot.” She was having far too much poking fun at him as she treated his wound, but Mick couldn’t bring himself to object. He continued the protests that he really was king, “what kind of moron says it if it isn’t true?”, maintaining the playful nature of their conversation all the while feeling more and more that he had at last found a woman that he wouldn’t mind courting. Not marriage – he’d just met her after all, but maybe if the courting went well…

He woke up alone on the forest floor, covered by a thin, feminine cape, an embroidered C across the wrist of the left sleeve. The cape was the only proof he had of the encounter taking place outside of his mind – well, the cape and the throbbing pain of his foot. Standing, he tested his foot gingerly, hissing in pain when he laid it flat on the ground; this was going to be a long trip back to the castle.

When he arrived, he had barely passed through the gate before Lenny was steering him towards the throne room. “Lenny, I’m knackered, I need to see the healer.” Mick tried pulling away but Lenny just held on tighter, Lisa appearing on his other side to aid her brother in dragging him to his destination. “Sorry Micky” Lisa piped up, “But the princess made her way here this morning, she came through the forest, _on foot_! I think you’ll like her Mick, she’s really tough.”

Mick barely allowed himself to hope, giving up on his resistance, instead all but sprinting to the throne room as best as he could with a limp. The throne room door flew open, and he could see dark hair, a tunic, trousers, boots and he was just about to call out Caitlin’s name when she turned; this was not Caitlin. Her skin was darker, her eyes brown and unguarded – she was beautiful and no doubt fierce, he could see that from the lack of attention paid to a bleeding cut on her forehead, but this was not who he wanted to see. He barely registered the door closing behind him over the heavy thrum of disappointment.

“King Michael? Hello, I am princess Iris of Central. I was sent here to see if you wish to marry me.” Her voice was flat and not at all portraying the false politeness of a princess – Mick could see why Lisa said he’d like her. “Well, if we want to be honest anyway – the official reason is that my father wants me to start understanding our alliances and forming friendships with my neighbouring kingdoms.”

Mick, for the only the second time in his life, found himself shocked by a woman’s candour when addressing him, absent-mindedly stroking the cape still in his hands. The movement caught Princess Iris’ eyes and suddenly a dagger was drawn from her waist and fluidly pressed to his throat. “Where is she? That cape belongs to Caitlin, I know because I was the one to give it to her this past week for her birthday.” The dagger was pushed hard enough that he felt a small trickle of blood begin to make its way down his neck. Good thing the guards had given them privacy, or they would have killed her by now and there would be a war on their hands. As if on cue, the heavy doors begun to swing open; why did his every thought jinx him so?.

“Iris!” A feminine bark of irritation came from the doorway, accompanied by the unmistakeable sound of swords being drawn. “King Michael – do you require assistance.” But Mick ignored Lenny, instead grinning madly back at Iris; Iris who had lowered her dagger, shame-faced. Iris who had recognised the woman, just like Mick recognised her voice.

“Hello princess.” Mick turned on his heel, meeting the shocked gaze of Caitlin, who was apparently processing the magnitude of her errors from the forest. “No apology for calling me a liar?” He couldn’t resist the teasing jibe, regretting as the swords and gazes of his men turned onto her. “Caitlin! You called King Michael a liar!? When? And why is he calling you princess?” Iris’ questions were high with that shrillness people get when trying to cover their panic with composure.

“I – He - .” Caitlin’s face had become ashen and she appeared to struggle finding her words, before taking a breath and levelling him with a cool gaze. “Well, _your majesty_ , as I recall, I never used the term liar, although if I had, it would hardly be without just cause. And Iris, King Michael and I met in the forest, when I was off dealing with your obsessed attacker. He called me hot and then stabbed himself in the foot to keep me from leaving.” Mick couldn’t help the bark of laughter that escaped his lips at the arched eyebrow that seemed to signal ‘ _your move’_. “I guess you’re right princess, allow me to formally introduce myself. I’m King Michael of Keystone – call me that and I’ll have you placed on a pyre. My enemies, formal allies and subjects call me that. It’s Mick to my friends and loved ones.” He hadn’t noticed that he had been walking closer to the woman, stopping just three feet short of her. A smile danced across her lips. “And what is it that I should call you then, as I’m currently neither of the given options?”

The woman had become coy and Mick was truly enjoying this game, but then princess Iris felt the need to make her presence known, interrupting before he could continue their flirtation. “I’m sorry King Michael, but I still don’t understand why you keep referring to my chief guard and healer as Princess?”

Mick angled his head at the princess before turning to smirk at the petite woman before him. “Head guard?” A nod. “Healer?” Another nod. “Well, princess Iris, your father can be rest assured that our treaty remains intact and you are more than welcome to stay for as long as you wish.” He allowed himself to smile smugly at Caitlin before limping over towards Lenny, throwing an arm around his friend’s shoulder and beginning to slowly make his way from the throne room.

As he left, he couldn’t resist calling over his shoulder to Iris, adding, “And as to the reason I refer to Caitlin as princess – well. I can’t speak out of certainty, given that our meetings so far have been rather violent and not at all conducive to determining a healthy relationship, but… If all goes well, following a bout of courting, a princess is what she’ll be recognised as. Of course, then I’ll start calling her my queen.”


End file.
